Text 803
by CellarGangGirl
Summary: Brought to you by textsfromtheimpala, the story of college boys Castiel and Dean, drunkenly fooling around and starting a relationship completely by accident. RATED M FOR A REASON SWEETIES!


AN: Oh my God. You guys, I wrote porn! This is ground breaking! I've never been able to actually get myself to write an honest-to-God sex scene before. So don't be too mean, I tried my hardest. It took a couple days to actually finish that part, then edit the crap out of it so it didn't look like a schizophrenic two year old wrote it. Also I know, a little ooc on both parts, but it's an AU and they're college boys - it's to be expected. I'm personally somewhat disappointed that there's no Sam in this, but I didn't really feel it when I was trying to work him in. Eeh, there's always next time.

I'm uploading this right now for you guys kind of to make me feel better, because my computer just crashed and I'm pretty sure I just lost everything I've accumulated over the past two years. But I was able to salvage this and a few other fics I'd started, so small mercy. Well, without further depressing ado:

By the way, this fic was inspired by this post: textsfromtheimpala . tumblr . com/post/22439370619/submitted-by-sexually-aggressive-cas I'm just finding so much inspiration from the tumblr community these days.

Word Count: 8,600~

Disclaimer: Anyone who told you I was Kripke or anyone else involved with Supernatural is a big fat liar. Or they thought I already sold my soul, which I haven't; I'm still gathering the ingredients to call a crossroads demon. Either way, I'm not, so this is all one big humongous lie. :)

* * *

Castiel Novak was not having the best of days.

It was a Monday - as is typical for bad days, he assumed. The night before he'd gotten blissfully drunk and had participated in some rather spectacular sex, if he did say so himself. Actually, his week had been looking like a good one until he'd woken up this morning. It was a frightful experience to deal with an at-the-very-least bisexual college boy, with a girlfriend, who didn't want anyone to know about their... encounter the night before, all with a raging hangover. He still wasn't sure how he did it, but it probably helped that the guy had thrown on his clothes and slipped out the door before he had to calm him down much.

Ordinarily, Castiel would feel bad about this, but it was his first day of Myth 122, so he hadn't really had much time to linger on it. He'd woken up at noon and his class started at 4, so he'd had just enough time for a shower and getting some food into him; he choked down bacon and eggs despite the lurch his stomach gave in response to the smell of the greasy breakfast food. Looking back on it, he wasn't sure why he'd even made breakfast food - he hated breakfast food. However, the heaves he'd been choking back had stopped after he took a couple aspirin and he'd headed across campus from his dorm to find his class.

Or, well, he was attempting to find the class. According to his watch, he was two minutes from being late and he still hadn't located the correct room. He was starting to get a headache; he really shouldn't have let Gabriel drag him to that party last night. He should have been sober enough to allow for enough time to get here early in case this happened.

This particular building had been going through renovations since summer started, and half the rooms were still closed at the start of the fall semester, leading to classes being switched every which way. He was just about to give up - he was on the top floor and had gone down every hall but one - when he turned the last corner and there, at the end of the hall, was a bright purple sign that declared Myth 122 being held at 4 o'clock in the very last room. He sighed in relief and speed-walked down the hall, quietly opening the door and sliding in just as the clock struck 4. He found a seat at the very edge of the aisle in the back row and sat as the professor stalked about below, calling out introductions and welcomes.

He was unpacking his things when something in the deep whisper to his left caught his attention and a chill ran down his spine. Casting a glance at the occupant of the seat next to him only confirmed his anxious suspicions.

The guy from last night - Dave, or something like that - was leaning away from him towards a dark-haired girl in the seat on his other side. She was snickering at something Dave was saying, and Castiel caught the words 'smell' and 'drunk'. Not being a particularly angry drunk - hence the sex - Castiel was surprised when he felt indignant fury boiling up inside of him. He guessed the headache of a hangover was not a good addition to his already-lowered inhibitions.

"Excuse me, but some people are trying to pay attention here. I have a bit of a hangover still because _some_ asshole caused a ruckus leaving my dorm this morning, so if you could kindly be quiet, that'd be great." He sniped at the two in a lowered voice that didn't quite qualify as a whisper, but wouldn't cause a big enough commotion to draw much attention from anyone but the people directly in front of them. Dave's head whipped around so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash, and from the way that the smile froze and slid off of the girl's face, he would have sworn that she was the girlfriend the guy had been going on about in his nervous chattering this morning. Where normally Castiel would have been remorseful about how obvious he had just been, in his hung over state, apparently he didn't care about that either.

"Dean, what the hell is he talking about?" The girl's face was alight with fury now. Castiel noted that he'd been wrong on the name as he pulled out his notebook and a pen - it was a good thing he hadn't called the guy Dave; less of an impact. Speaking of Dean, he appeared incredibly flustered as he turned the eyes that had been locked on Castiel in incredulous surprise back to the girl. He stuttered for a second before getting out an actual sentence.

"Lisa, I don't even know this guy. He was just at that party last night-" whatever he'd planned to finish with, he'd clearly started out wrong. Lisa huffed and, scowling, she shifted her things over on the table, as far away from Dean as possible.

"This is the third and _last_ time, Dean. We've only been dating four months and you've managed to cheat on me three times now. Twice with _guys_." While she didn't seem disgusted by this, it apparently enraged her more than the other time he'd cheated on her, and her whispered words rang with finality as she spun in her seat, hair flipping over her shoulder as she faced away, refusing to turn back when Dean prompted her to.

There were papers being passed, and Castiel wondered how anyone could possibly afford to make copies for a 200-person class. However, there were only two - the syllabus and grading scale - so he guessed they were probably the only two physical sheets of paper that they would get all semester. Everything else would be delivered through the convenience of email. He gingerly passed the papers to Dean and nearly flinched himself when Lisa practically tore them out of his.

The three of them sat in awkward silence for the entire remainder of the period. The shuffle of the other 150-or-so present students luckily created enough noise that it wasn't _quite_ so painful, but the glimpses Castiel caught of Lisa's face showed enough rage and misery that he had miraculously reacquired the ability to feel bad by the end of class. He fidgeted through the last twenty minutes, trying to ignore the scathing glares he was receiving from the man next to him. His notes were found to be quite sparse, mainly because he was resisting the intense urge to turn and apologize profusely for the majority of the lecture.

When the professor finally concluded the painfully-dragging discussion on the Greek tragedies they'd be starting with, declaring that they'd be in the same room next week, Castiel threw his things into his bag and practically leapt out the door. He didn't move far beyond the end of the hall, though, before he paused and watched the door, waiting. Lisa stormed out first, and luckily her now-ex boyfriend hadn't followed by the time she reached the end of the hall as well. He lightly grasped her arm, pulling her out of her daze without striking panic.

"Lisa, right?" She didn't immediately scoff or pull away, so he drug her over so they were hidden from the doorway by the corner of the wall. She went willingly and gave him a half-confused, half-pissed look, crossing her arms in obvious expectance of something. He was genuinely sorry though, and was therefore not cowed by the icy expression.

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry. Dean and I, we were both incredibly drunk last night. Now, I know that's no excuse and it sounds like you guys sort of had other issues, but I was really hung over when I got to class. Still, I had no right to break the news to you like that or anything." He rushed out, attempting to at least explain himself before she started screaming as dissed college girls were wont to do.

"Listen, guy." He refrained from interrupting with his name. "I don't really care what happened, and I don't really care why you said anything, alright? Yeah, Dean's pretty wild when he gets drunk and it's not like this hasn't happened before - but that's what I get for dating a guy who I liked _because_ he was fun when he got drunk. Whatever, I'm just grateful I actually found out. The only reason I knew about the other two was because I walked in on them, so... Thanks, or whatever." Apparently that was all she had to say, because she turned on her heel and promptly stalked away as he stared after her, the awkward thanks ringing slightly in his ears. It certainly hadn't been the reaction he'd been expecting - he'd been prepared for shouting and blaming, quite possibly a smack - but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, he shook off the surprise and tailed it down the nearest staircase in an effort to get the hell out of there before Dean came out after them.

He was outside before he realized that he hadn't quite made it. He was just stepping onto the grass in front of the building to head back to his dorm when a man fell in step with him, looping an arm over his shoulders jovially as if they were close friends. A sharp look to his side told him that they most definitely were not, but Dean apparently had a way with charming everyone around them to think otherwise, because nobody was looking to come to Castiel's rescue as Dean steered him over to the shaded side of the building. As soon as they were out of the view of the public, Dean shoved him away and into the hard brick wall. Castiel briefly entertained the thought that he was about to get beat up like some high school nerd before he realized that Dean was pacing before him. Despite the pounding he wasn't getting, the guy was understandably pissed.

"What the fuck man? Seriously, what the hell? You had no fucking right..." Dean cut off, running a hand through his hair in a way that Castiel tried not to notice was incredibly sexy. He could definitely still see why he'd hooked up with this guy, and he was glad that the ache he could still feel was justified by more than the memory of incredibly good sex for two drunks. He must not have been as drunk as he'd thought, because he didn't think he'd ever seen a drunken hookup of Gabriel's who was this hot.

"I can't fucking believe you, man. Does the Bro Code mean nothing to you?" Dean finally turned the intense green eyes he'd vaguely noticed this morning on Castiel, and it took a few moments for him to realize that it was a real question that Dean expected an answer to.

"I don't think the Bro Code quite applies to guys you fucked the night before, but either way, I was still a bit too hung over for it to really matter at the time. It's not much now, but I am sorry." He replied once he gathered his wits about himself. Dean flinched at the mentioning of the previous night's activities. Castiel wondered for a moment if he'd really been that bad of a lay - he didn't think so, but the memory was a bit fuzzy for his liking - before he remembered that it was one drunken night and he shouldn't be so hurt by the guy's opinion. Besides, it wasn't like he was ranking particularly high on Dean's list right now: he had just lost him his girlfriend, after all.

"Jesus, stop saying that. I don't need the entire damn campus to know I swing that way, okay?" He seemed more upset by the 'gay' aspect of this conversation than even losing his girlfriend, which really irked Castiel, for some reason. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Dean's attitude. Clearly, he'd proven that he did have those inclinations, so as an openly-gay guy since he'd reached puberty, Castiel took oddly-personal offense to Dean's holier-than-thou response. Who gave a fuck who knew?

"Look, whatever your sexual identity crisis is, it's not my problem, okay? I don't know you and you don't know me, and clearly you'd like to keep it that way. I'm genuinely sorry for losing you your girlfriend, but it's not like I publicly outed you or anything - she clearly already knew about which ways you 'swing'. So if you're done trying to make me feel bad for a drunken lay, I have some homework that I was too occupied to do last night that I need to get done before tomorrow." He snapped in his irritation. He really needed to stop letting Gabriel drag him to parties - he was never this rude to people.

Dean cringed away from him, giving him a look that screamed contrition. Castiel couldn't figure it out, so he picked up the backpack he'd dropped when he'd hit the wall. Trying to figure out this one hot guy who was equally pissed and contrite towards him was not on his list of things to do today - he just wanted to get back to his dorm and do his Calc homework so that he didn't get off to a bad start. Then maybe he could fall asleep early and when he woke up tomorrow this would all seem like a bad dream. He had just turned to leave when a surprisingly gentle hand landed on his arm, stalling him with sense memory of that soft hand trailing down his chest and giving him goosebumps, caressing his thighs open so his equally soft hips could slide between them-

"Hold up, wait. I didn't mean to offend you or anything. You probably don't remember - you seemed pretty hammered already - but your roommate Gabriel set us up. He told me you were pretty much as openly gay as they come without being a chick or something; I'm not saying that's bad or anything. I just... It's just not for me, alright?" Dean was looking at him like _Castiel_ was supposed to do something to fix this and then everything would be okay. Castiel really didn't know how to fix this, though. He hadn't expected his one-night hookup to be worried about offending him - actually, that had been the least of his worries. He stared blankly for a moment before Dean's comment about Gabriel sunk in.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He barely resisted the urge to shout, which would undoubtedly rile Dean more by drawing attention to them. Dean flinched regardless and he almost stumbled over his words to continue.

"Fucking... Of course it was Gabriel. Of _fucking_ course! I swear he can't keep his nose in his own damn business to save his life. Just because Bal decided we weren't couple material, he had to-" he would have continued in his rant, but Dean quickly tapped his arm, dragging Castiel's attention down from the sky - which he'd been looking to as he silently questioned whoever was looking down on him why Gabriel couldn't seem to mind his own damn business. He really should have known something was up when Gabe had dragged him to that damn party.

He looked down only to catch a pointed look from Dean and a glance over his shoulder. Turning, his eyes quickly caught onto two burly guys cutting across the grass directly towards them. They looked like jocks, and they clearly knew Dean. He raised an eyebrow to the young man, who only yanked his hand away from Castiel's arm. All too soon, the guys were well within hearing range and it was too late to ask Dean what was going on.

"Hey, Winchester. What's happening?" Greeted one of the obviously-muscled guys, tapping Dean in the arm with a fist. Dean shrugged one shoulder casually, easily affecting a careless attitude that he seemed much more at home in than the frustrated, confused one he'd been showing less than a minute ago. The boys didn't give Castiel a second glance.

"Nothing much. Just talking to Cas here 'bout Lisa - bitch ran out of class after saying we were over or some shit." Castiel didn't like the demeaning way he talked about the girl _he'd_ cheated on, but the drawl he spoke with was enough to distract him from that. It was like honey, slow and sweet, sliding over words every bit as sensually as his hands at trailed over Castiel last night. The nickname he'd created on the spot was particularly distracting, somehow managing to sound much more intimate than it should in polite company - though he doubted 'polite' was a word typically used in description of these boys. He couldn't let himself get lost in his appreciation though; the jocks were looking over at him now, clearly expecting some kind of input.

"I dunno man, she said something about the party last night and then she wouldn't talk to me anymore. You must've done something stupid at Gabriel's party." He made up on the spot - he didn't know how much these guys knew, but he certainly wasn't about to say anything blatantly revealing. The more time he spent with Dean, apparently, the more he wanted to see if he could get in the guy's pants one more time.

This was a new feeling for Castiel; he generally preferred actual relationships to mindless sex, but his body was clearly willing to give that up for Dean Winchester. Of course it didn't hurt that Dean had all the qualities that Castiel had ever thought were attractive; he was fit but not overly-muscled, his skin was tanned golden by what Castiel assumed was hours spent in the sun, his voice rumbled low in a way that constantly implied sex, his legs were slightly bowed out in the way that suggested he bottomed even though Castiel knew from hazy experience that he topped, and his lips pouted together naturally. Castiel thought it was a crime that most people probably didn't notice.

Snapping back to the topic at hand, though; it couldn't be news that Dean had gone to a party last night - these sporty types always talked about things like that. True to form, the new arrivals just chuckled and gave Dean a couple of high fives before declaring they were late to class and heading inside, nodding their goodbyes to Dean and ignoring Castiel again. Dean let out a heavy sigh once they were gone.

"Thanks for going with me on that one. Those two would be... part of the reason I don't want the whole campus to know about this, actually." Dean said, giving Castiel a grateful look. He couldn't help the response that bubbled out of his lips.

"Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private then, before we run into any more of your homophobic friends?" Clearly, Dean needed new friends, but Castiel wasn't about to bring that up, lest Dean feel attacked. He was just thankful that the words he used weren't completely obvious as the invitation they truly were, and Dean shrugged before adjusting his own bag and starting off for the parking lot on the other side of the building.

"Guess so. Come on, then. I'll drive us back to your dorm." It was all Dean said, and Castiel trailed dutifully behind him. He certainly wouldn't admit to watching the way Dean's ass tilted as he walked, a pang of longing making itself known low in his gut. Yet another feature to add to the list of things that made Dean the perfect guy.

When they reached the sleek black muscle car, Castiel vaguely remembered it from the night before - meaning, of course, that he remembered the way the engine had rumbled beneath him and the way he'd practically glued his lips to Dean's neck as the guy had driven the short distance from the frat house hosting the party back to Castiel's dorm hall. He tried not to let the embarrassment show, but he could feel his cheeks flush a bit and saw the slow smile curve onto Dean's lips as he turned the key and the engine purred to life under them. He took it as a sign that Dean was still interested, no matter how much at odds he clearly was with his sexuality.

The ride back to Howard Hall, like the walk to class, was short, and passed in relative silence as some rock band Castiel didn't recognize blared out of the radio. He didn't try to strike up conversation, not really knowing what to say that hadn't already been said. It hit him that he hadn't honestly thought this through as he lead the way up to his room in silence - he had virtually no clue how to talk Dean into getting in bed with him again. He briefly entertained thoughts that questioned when he'd become such a sex addict, willing to have sex with people who only escaped stranger territory by being the person he'd slept with in a drunken haze the night before.

He dropped his bag at his desk once they were safely in his room with the door shut and locked behind them. Dean was staring at the still-rumpled bed with darkened eyes that told Castiel he was replaying last night's events with better detail than Castiel himself could recall. Naturally, Castiel took this knowledge as a cue and sat on the bed to untie his shoes in response. Dean shook his head quickly as though to clear it, dropping his bag and leaning against the door. There was a moment of slightly awkward silence before Dean barreled straight through it.

"So... Bal? Who's Bal?" His question left Castiel confused for a moment before he remembered mentioning his almost-boyfriend before Dean's friends had arrived. He looked down nervously before deciding that nerves were a superfluous thing to have around someone you'd had sex with and lifting his gaze to meet Dean's once more.

"Ah, he was... almost my boyfriend. But he decided that he wasn't really the type to settle down, as it were. I sort of saw it coming, but Gabe thought I was just so broken up about it. So he dragged me out to that party last night to get me drunk off my ass, which is apparently his idea of fun..." He trailed off, not really knowing where to go from there - Dean already knew what had happened after that anyways. As if reading Castiel's thoughts, Dean gave him a cocky smirk, which he tried to tell himself really wasn't that hot.

"You telling me last night wasn't fun for you?" By God though, the things that came out of Dean's mouth behind closed doors. He was definitely quite the seductive bastard when the eyes of his peers weren't weighing him down. He waggled his eyebrows for good measure, and Castiel was surprised he didn't just melt right there, putty for Dean to mold however he wished. Instead, he gave an awkward smile back.

"Well, I don't really remember it all that well, but from what I do, you made it surprisingly good for drunk sex." He commended, not bothering to hide the way his voice dropped. It was pretty clear that Dean saw what was going on here, and he wasn't opposed to it, at least not completely. Proving his awareness, it was mere moments before Dean was standing inches away from him, his knees pressing Castiel's legs open and fitting between them perfectly.

"It wasn't that memorable for you? I guess I'm not really surprised; you were pretty smashed. Don't tell Lisa, but I really wasn't hammered enough to forget about her, only had two drinks - you were just such a tease with those hands of yours, and your voice was all scratchy, like it was _made_ of rough sex or something." Dean said from above him, and yeah, his voice had definitely dropped too. There was no way in hell Castiel could mistake the obvious proof of his arousal right in front of his face, either. He couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped him, and when he wrapped his hand around Dean's thigh, he allowed himself to be rolled back onto his own unmade bed as Dean crawled over him. This was moving a lot faster than he'd expected, but her certainly wasn't going to object.

Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongues, Castiel already too turned on to care if he caught their lips between them. He moaned into Dean's mouth when the man ground down into him, rocking their hips together in a way that Castiel's now-sober mind could properly appreciate. It sparked fuzzy flashbacks to the night before, and Castiel wished he hadn't been so drunk and could remember exactly what was coming. Suddenly Dean tilted his hips _just so_ in a way that had Castiel pressing his head back into his pillows and moaning, all concise thought flying from his mind and leaving only partial thoughts such as _Dean_ and _Oh God_.

"Yeah, that's it. You liked that last night, too. Liked it even more once I got you outta your damn pants." Dean muttered lowly into his ear, hot breath sending shivers down Castiel's spine. He whimpered quietly, fingers working their way up Dean's chest to eventually curl around the bigger man's biceps as their lips met again.

Dean had to be the most talented kisser Castiel had ever met. His lips were soft but firm at the same time, and his teeth nipped _just_ hard enough to coerce Castiel's open for his tongue. And _God_, what a tongue.

The inside of his mouth was like molten fire, making use of the perfect amount of saliva to slick their lips. His tongue twisted slowly, gracefully into his partner's mouth, swirling around Castiel's and curling up to flick at the roof of his mouth behind his teeth, where the sensation caused a long shudder to course through his body. On his retreat, Dean caressed the corner of his mouth, and as he pulled away Castiel was suddenly aware that the t-shirt he'd slipped on this afternoon was rucked up under his arms and Dean's warm hand was wrapped around his waist, the heavy weight anchoring him to the other boy.

"You gonna moan for me, cry out how much you like it like you did for me last night? Couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or just how eager you were to get me inside you, but _fuck_ it was good hearing you tell me how much you wanted me, how hot I was, when I was hitting _just_ that right spot in you-" his fingers clenched on Castiel's waist and he bit his lip, white teeth sinking into pink flesh teasingly before his tongue flicked out to soothe the skin. "Mm, holy shit that was hot." Dean's hips gave a little thrust into his, and Castiel whined in the back of his throat, hips following Dean's in their retreat, setting a slow rhythm. Hearing Dean talk about the activities he couldn't remember was hotter than anything he could ever have imagined, and he lifted his head from the pillow to lock lips with the other man again, unable to do much else as their rocking hips wiped his mind blank.

They rocked like that for a couple of minutes, lips sliding together as they worked to get reacquainted with each other. Suddenly, there was a hand between them, working the button of his jeans open, and Castiel gasped as it slid the zipper down slowly, brushing deliberately along his hard length.

"God, Dean, you always such a fucking tease?" Dean apparently found this amusing, as he chuckled into Castiel's collarbone while his hands pushed the jeans, and his boxers with them, down to his knees. Castiel's feet took over removal of the garments as Dean's hands moved their attention to the shirt still stuck under his arms. He pulled it up over Castiel's head and tossed it off somewhere just as the jeans hit the floor at the bottom of his bed, and Castiel realized that he was now stripped bare while Dean kneeled over him, still fully clothed. And that would never do, especially not when working toward the grand finale they planned for. Through a skillful maneuver he didn't really understand how he knew, let alone know how to replicate, Castiel found himself straddling Dean's hips, looking down on the flushed face of the aroused, and now mildly surprised, man beneath him.

"I don't like teases. But we need you to get a little more naked before I can think of punishing you properly." Were he in his right mind, Castiel would be blushing horribly at his own words, but Dean's little moan of approval and the desperate thrust of his hips to gain friction bolstered him further, and he slipped the button-up Dean was wearing down his arms before rolling the t-shirt underneath it up and over the arms that Dean so helpfully raised for him. His fingers met Dean's at the button of his jeans, where the long digits were fumbling frantically with the fastenings. Dean gave a frustrated grunt as he couldn't figure out how to slip the button out. Castiel knocked his hands away, and they moved immediately to lower the zipper as Castiel popped the button through the hole effortlessly. Dean groaned low and long at the sudden freedom.

"Get me out of these fucking things _now_. Fuck, I wanna be in you again, buried so deep you can't feel anything _but_ me." Dean's words were incredibly appealing, his tone low and broken, already completely wrecked. The thought of what he'd sound like when he was buried deep inside of Castiel had him frantically tugging Dean's jeans down his legs, pausing only to remove his shoes when they hindered his progress. Dean pushed his boxers down and off with the jeans, and just like that, he was as bare as Castiel, who couldn't help staring in awe for a moment.

His first thought upon the reveal of Dean's naked body was that he'd have to thank Gabriel profusely the next time he saw him. Because Dean was definitely the hottest guy Castiel had ever laid eyes on, no question. He was buff and tanned in the way of men who walked around shirtless in the summer, playing flag football and rugby with their equally-buff straight friends. Castiel had never participated in such games, and thus his own chest was pale and lean, contrasting greatly against Dean's. Although he had noticed these things since the man had left in a hurry this afternoon, it was another thing entirely when the skin was freely bared to his perusal. His fingers slid across the golden skin of Dean's abs, inching down to the hard flesh below.

Although he was clearly expecting it, Dean's hips snapped up when his hand curled around the velvety-soft flesh, a long groan dragging out of his lips as though he'd been waiting an eternity for the touch. Castiel gave a single pump, gathering some precome from the tip and using it to slick his hand's passage. Dean let out an uncharacteristic whimper, which briefly left Castiel wondering exactly how they'd gotten here.

"Shit Cas, c'mon. Don't just sit there; do something." Dean had his head pressed back tight against the bed, and he was rolling his shoulders as though trying to relieve some of the tension in his tightly-wound body. Castiel couldn't help the small smirk that came to his face at the sight of his effect on the closeted man, but he would have to save further appreciation of the sight for another time. Since he apparently couldn't think and give a decent handjob at the same time, he forcefully shut off all thought processes beyond what was necessary and devoted himself fully to the task at hand.

It didn't take long to learn what Dean liked. The man was surprisingly vocal for a guy who didn't want people to know he was with another guy - but then, maybe he just didn't realize how thin dorm walls were. As it were, Castiel was almost 99 percent sure that everyone on this floor knew they'd had sex last night; his hazy memory did include much moaning and grunting and begging, most of which he wasn't ashamed to admit came from him.

Dean, though, was all rough groans and prolonged keens and aborted cries for more when Castiel twisted his hand a certain way, or tightened his grip or slipped his thumb against his head as he reached the tip of an upstroke. He let his lips slip down to Dean's neck, where his tongue poked out and slid around the strained muscles, trailing down to the hollow of his neck, where Castiel sucked the skin between his teeth before releasing and laving the reddened flesh with attention from his tongue again. Dean let out a whuff of half-voiced air, reaching up to close a powerful grip on Castiel's bicep. Almost subconsciously, he noted that there would probably be a bruise there tomorrow before he pushed the thought away and began kissing a path down Dean's torso.

His nipples were incredibly sensitive, Castiel realized when he reached them. He only had to flick his tongue against one of them twice before Dean let out a strangulated cry and his hips torqued powerfully below. Castiel didn't bother to hide his chuckle before sliding lower, not wanting to give too much stimulation. While he was hard enough that he was sure they wouldn't last long, he certainly didn't want it to be over too soon. He actually liked Dean, but he doubted the guy dated other men, so this would probably be his last chance to properly sleep with him. And by God, he was going to do it right, and they would both enjoy it.

It seemed like it took ages to cross the valley of Dean's abs, kissing his way down his stomach and nuzzling into the trail of hair that led to where his hand was still steadily pumping. Dean's breath was coming in heavy pants which sped as Castiel drew nearer to the source of Dean's whimpered groans and choked cries.

Despite being an English Lit. major, Castiel didn't have the words to describe the sound Dean made as his lips closed over the head of his leaking cock, his throat closing on a low whine that trailed off like a whimper, but there were words in there somewhere that Castiel couldn't quite make out. He slowly worked his mouth back off the hot flesh, trailing kitten licks over the skin that wasn't eaten up by his still-working hand. He was starting to get a crick in his wrist, but it was easy to ignore and he considered it an acceptable consequence of today's events.

"What was that, Dean? Something you want?" He deliberately allowed his breath to trail over Dean as he spoke, using one hand to hold down his hips as the jerked upward in search of more of the sensation. Just because he'd been raised by devoted Catholics didn't mean he couldn't tease with the best of them - the repression helped him a lot in the sack.

"Fuck, Cas. Fuck fuck _fuck_. I need-" his voice cut off with a groan as Castiel gave another series of kitten licks to the velvety flesh still at his mercy.

"You need what, Dean?" This was probably the most vocal he'd ever been in bed, save that awkward first time where everyone's asking questions and giving directions and nothing makes the experience any better for either party. Luckily, the awkwardness of his 18th year had long since passed away, and he knew just what inflection to use to make the words veritably the sexiest things Dean had ever heard in his life - at least in the moment. As if to prove him right, Dean let out another needy groan.

"Damnit Cas, get the fuck up here." Dean's hand on his bicep was joined by his other hand curling under his other arm, using the muscle tonage Castiel had noted to haul the other man back up his body. Castiel let out a moan of his own when Dean deposited him atop himself, their cocks sliding together as Castiel's meager weight pressed down on Dean's chest. His hips jerked forward to get more of the sensation of Dean's hard heat pressed against his own. Before he could utter another sound, Dean's lips were attached to his, and he was not being nearly so gentle as the first couple of kisses.

The meeting was brief and sloppy, and tinged a little salty by Castiel's mouth, but he highly doubted Dean minded. As a matter of fact, when he pulled back, Dean was smiling up at him, at least until he was smiling down at him. Momentarily confused, Castiel's eyes trailed around the room before he decided that Dean must have been in wrestling at some point, because he was far too good at flipping them around like that. He wondered if wrestlers were in any way flexible like gymnasts were, but that thought was wiped away quickly.

"The fuck do you think I need? I _need_," he punctuated the emphasized word with a roll of his hips against Castiel's, their members sliding together sinuously, "to get inside you again. Your tight body wrapped around me, my thighs straining from thrusting into you..." He teased, giving just enough to make Castiel's mind cling to fleeting memories of last night, and leave him gasping for more, completely unable to conceive of a different outcome for today.

Still connected at the hips, where Dean had moved his hands, Castiel reached over to his bedside table. He yanked open the drawer and rooted around feebly for the lube and condoms he always kept in there, specifically because of occurrences like last night. The condom came away easily, but after half a minute of frustrated blind groping, he huffed and rolled over so that he could actually see the contents of his drawer. Illogically, there was no bottle of lube. He rooted around in the loose leaf papers for a moment, and Dean slid up against him, chest-to-back, chin resting on Castiel's shoulder.

"What's the matter?" Dean's hand slid around his hip and closed on his hard flesh, giving a couple soft strokes. Castiel's teeth gritted together to stop him from crying out, and his hand closed on the edge of the wooden drawer. He was vaguely surprised it didn't splinter.

"I - hah! - can't find the damn lube." He gritted out once he could breathe again. There was a slight pause - not in Dean's hands, thankfully - as this news sank in, and Dean's mind was clearly whirring. Castiel was completely unwilling to leave this room until he'd been well and truly sated, and a lack of lube put a severe damper on his plans to get that way.

"Does Gabriel have any?" Dean finally offered from Castiel's shoulder, interrupting desperate thoughts of where his damn lube could've gone - they'd used it just last night. Dean's answer was so obvious that Castiel balked at it for a moment before extricating himself quickly from Dean's fingers, much to his own dismay. Completely uncaring about how disturbing it was to share lube with somebody you weren't having sex with, and the personal boundaries that everyone always said he didn't quite grasp, he made a direct line to Gabriel's own bedside table, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the lube as soon as his eyes joyously registered it. He practically ran back to where Dean was watching him from his bed.

"Does that say 'strawberry flavored'?" Dean snorted in amusement as he took the bottle, popping the cap up while Castiel slid back into bed next to him. He rolled his eyes, silently cursing and praising Gabriel at the same time.

"It's Gabriel." He offered, which was explanation all in itself, sadly. Dean hummed in agreement, slicking his fingers before flipping the cap closed one-handed and tossing the bottle into Castiel's open drawer.

"In case we need it again." And he winked, which only confused Castiel more. What could he possibly mean, 'later'? He didn't - and suddenly, there was a finger stroking against the muscle below, another pressing at a spot just behind his balls that had his vision practically going black. His breath hitched and his hand tightened on Dean's bicep as he dimly realized that Dean had been trying to distract him, to catch him off guard. And _hell_ if it hadn't worked. He could practically feel the smirk gracing Dean's lips, even if he couldn't see him through his clenched eyelids.

He cried out as a finger slid easily past the ring of muscle, Dean humming and pressing his lips to the spot where his jaw met his neck.

"That's it, baby. Mm, I know you can take it." Strangely, the endearment caught him off guard more than whatever it was Dean had said before, and had his hips grinding down on Dean's hand, urging him to give more. Another finger slipped in relatively easily, his muscles still loose from the night before. He let out an animalistic whine and spread his legs further, allowing Dean to roll over and take up residence between them.

He was so _full_, even though he vaguely realized that there were bigger things to come. He ground down onto Dean's fingers, panting heavily already and utterly unashamed at the wanton picture he was sure he made. He really couldn't care less right now if the entire Hall heard him crying out for Dean - he just wanted it. Nothing else mattered, in that way that most people thought never really happened and was only marketed by romance novels. Castiel himself had been one of those people - he'd never been this wild for Balthazar, and that man had been well-versed in the art of same-sex loving. _Dean_, though...

Dean took it to a whole new level, a level where Castiel was barely aware of where he ended and the other man began. At that exact moment, Dean crooked his fingers up and almost immediately found that bundle of nerves inside him that had his back arching, every muscle in his body quivering. His throat closed, thankfully cutting off what would most likely have been an all-out scream at the pleasure. It was too much, too much, and he almost sobbed in relief when Dean let up, scissoring his fingers a bit instead to work him open enough to accept another finger.

It was a couple minutes before he was able to slip the third finger in, but it was by no means tedious. Normally, Castiel would feel embarrassed at the length of time it took - it was either too long or too short, never just right, but he supposed that was what he got for not having a vagina. He briefly wondered how he could possibly manage sarcasm at a time like this, before those thoughts were promptly cut off by simultaneous groans from Dean and himself as a third finger finally sank in with the other two.

He couldn't imagine why Dean was groaning - it wasn't like his fingers were particularly sensitive to sexual stimulation - but he wasn't going to question it as the newly-added finger filled him more and caused the others to brush against his prostate on every third stroke. He ground down onto Dean's hand in earnest now, trying to get more leverage, more power, more _something_. More Dean, his mind settled on, and his voice reflected that decision, uttering out Dean's name repetitively through moans and gasps of pleasure. He barely noticed when Dean's weight shifted above him, but he certainly noticed a minute later when his fingers slid out of him, leaving him achingly empty. He whined, eyes snapping open to catch Dean's as his fingers clawed at the tan shoulders above him.

"Shh, I got you. Don't worry, I'm gonna take care of you, Cas." He didn't know when this had gone from sexy to sweet, but he felt like he was getting far too attached to someone who was probably going to walk out of his life as soon as they were no longer in class together. So, he was glad when he felt the head of Dean's hard cock pressing up against him, slick with latex and lube.

"You did all that one-handed? Fuck, 'm more out of it than I thought. And damn that's hot." He commented lowly, voice breathy as Dean rocked against him. Above him, Dean smirked.

"Yeah, you thought it was pretty hot last night, too." He quipped as the head of him slipped past the outer ring of muscle. Castiel gaped for a moment, breathing stalled.

"Ngh. Stop talking about last night and let's make some memories I can actually _remember_ later, you ass." He snipped at Dean, trying to roll his hips down to meet his partner's. It didn't exactly work, but the friction forced Dean to thrust the rest of the way in, and he could tell by the straining muscles in Dean's arms that it was hard work not pulling back to thrust in again, letting Castiel get used to the feeling. As it was, he'd already stretched Castiel enough to start right away, and Castiel didn't really want to sit there, reveling in the feeling of a warm body lying atop him, curling around him as it filled him up. He was the type who formed emotional connections quickly, and so he tilted his hips, rocking them up and then down to force Dean into movement. The sooner he left, the less chance that Castiel would form an attachment.

Dean took the hint, his own hips pulling back before snapping back in, cock slamming against that bundle of nerves that had Castiel yelping as he tried to press back into space that wasn't there, trying to get something more. There it was again, that tug in his chest that nothing was ever _enough_ to fully satisfy. Dean's hands wrapped around his hips, angling them so it was easier to hit that spot, and he forgot about the need for something more.

He wasn't going to last long, he was sure of it. He was wound too tight, emotions were running too high. He would have been embarrassed, but there was simply no more room in him for anything other than this, right here and now.

In any case, it didn't take long until Dean's hips were stuttering a rhythm that was hardly rhythm at all anymore, clearly trying to stave off orgasm. His face was buried in Castiel's neck, where he was worrying the skin with his teeth as keening moans forced themselves out of his throat. It was clear he wanted this to last as well, but it simply wasn't going to happen.

This realization seemed to hit Dean at the same time, because he let go of the skin that he had been rolling lightly between his teeth and moved his mouth up to Castiel's ear as he grabbed one of the hands Castiel had placed on his sides and dragged it between them, wrapping it around Castiel's own leaking hardness. The touch had him gasping and whimpering, trying to hold back just a little longer. Dean was having none of it as his hand returned to Castiel's hip.

"Shit, Cas. Let go. C'mon, you can do it, baby." It was probably the use of the endearment again, more than anything else. Even the filthy, desperate urging couldn't have had him coming so hard his vision went spotty as though he'd been staring at the face of the sun. He was vaguely aware of his own hoarse voice desperately calling out Dean's name as he stroked himself through probably the hardest climax he'd ever experienced. He could feel Dean's hips snapping into his before they jerked suddenly to a stop seated fully within him, the flesh inside him pulsing as Dean followed him over the edge, crying out wordlessly as he plastered his body to Castiel's, mindless of the come sticky on the paler man's abdomen.

The room was full of panting breath as they came down from their highs, the sound soothing to Castiel's frayed nerves. He should have protested against the weight of Dean's body crushing him, but it was comforting and so he didn't raise a fuss.

It was possibly ten whole minutes, though Castiel's grasp of time had floated away from him, before Dean groaned, pulling back reluctantly so that he could remove the condom and tie it off before tossing it into the trash can on the other side of the bedside table. Castiel felt cold without the sweaty skin pressed against him; empty in a way that defied logic. He sighed when Dean collapsed to the mattress by his side, wrapping one arm around Castiel's waist with casual disregard for the come that was smeared there. He tugged Castiel back so that he was curled into Dean's chest, and Castiel gave up.

There'd be no point in fighting this off - he was already emotionally attached. So, he instead allowed himself to drift off as Dean tugged his comforter up and over them, although they didn't really need the extra heat. He really didn't need Gabriel to start shouting some bullshit about his innocent eyes if he came in while they were asleep. He just wanted to rest in Dean's arms for a while - his homework could wait.

* * *

AN: Aww, Cas baby... He's so cute. I almost feel like writing a sequel just to see what happens with him. But if I do, that'll have to wait until I finish Black Star, because readers have been waiting a ridiculously long time for me to finish that. Well, don't let me keep you, you have reviewing to do! (Please.)


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